


Pilote

by kittywampus



Series: Sans le dire [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, Little bit of angst, M/M, Pilot Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16433099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittywampus/pseuds/kittywampus
Summary: Ian and Mickey as Fiona and Jimmy/Steve, 1x01.





	Pilote

**Author's Note:**

> Ian is 21, Mickey is 22. Fiona is 19, she helps but she isn't as hands on as Ian. Lip, Carl, and Debbie are the same ages as canon in the pilot.

Sometimes, guys at the club got handsy.

It’s part of the job, Ian supposed, but it didn’t make it any more fun. The dancing job he landed put good money on the table for them. Between Fiona working at the stadium and Lip’s tutoring, they stayed afloat.

His shift was nearing a close, and some beefed up dude grabbed his ass a little too hard, then swiped all the cash stuck in the back of his shorts. “Hey! Fucking prick!” Ian shouted and hopped off the podium, running outside in the freezing air to chase after him.

There was another guy running after him too, but the man who stole his cash had hopped into a van and made off with at least a hundred dollars.

Ian panted heavily and looked at the man who had also been running after him. He had a cut on his forehead and a drink spilled over his shoulder. Ian chuckled, this was absurd.

“He steal your wallet or something?” Ian asked.

The other man was still catching his breath, “no, just, saw him swipe all your cash, man.”

Ian smirked, “so you thought to chase after him?”

The man shrugged, “yeah, well..” He trailed off and Ian laughed.

He made his way back towards the club, but he felt a hand on his shoulder stop him. He turned around and raised an eyebrow, giving him a once over. “My shift just ended.. If you want, you can wait out here for me. My sister has a friend who can take a look at that,” he nodded to the bloody mark on his forehead.

“Sounds great.”

Ian laughed again at the absurdity, leaving back into the club.

-

Veronica pat the man’s head with a wet washcloth and laughed as Ian told the story. Fiona chuckled too, sipping on her beer as she watched.

“What’s your name anyway?” She asked him.

“Mickey,” he murmured and eyed Ian.

Eventually, Veronica sewed up the mark on his forehead and Ian shooed Fiona back to her room, warning her not to wake Debbie in the process.

Ian made his way into the kitchen, cleaning up the trash left there from dinner, vaguely aware that Mickey had followed him.

“Would you have looked at me twice if I hadn’t busted my skull for you?”

Ian laughed and shrugged, “who said I looked twice? Lots of dudes want something—,” he was interrupted by Mickey grabbing his hips and smashing their lips together. Ian dropped the trash and grabbed Mickey’s face, moaning into his mouth. He shuddered a breath and pushed him gently, “I can’t,” he sighed, gesturing upstairs where his siblings were sleeping.

“Y’know, the first time I saw you dance was like.. A month ago,” he murmured, stepping closer to Ian after he turned off the light in the kitchen. “Never worked up the nerve to fuckin’.. Buy you a drink, or a dance or whatever. Figured you got that shit enough during the night.”

Ian licked his lips and looked at Mickey’s mouth, their body’s moving closer to each other.

“But tonight..” Ian’s breath hitched when Mickey pulled at his waistband. “Couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste,” their faces were in close proximity now, Mickey’s hand moving downwards to cup Ian’s dick. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” he breathed into Ian’s mouth.

Their lips met in a frenzied way, Ian grabbing Mickey’s face, Mickey’s hands moving to grab his as well. “Slower,” he exhaled into Ian’s mouth.

 _Slower_ , Ian almost laughed. He grabbed Mickey by the thighs and hoisted him up onto the sink, mouth on his in the least _slow_ way. He kissed his mouth hurriedly, thrusting his hips against Mickey’s thigh before he groaned, “lube, lube.. It’s in the back pocket of my jeans.”

Ian pulled Mickey’s jeans down, clumsily finding the lube and shoving one, then two fingers inside him after slicking him up. They panted into each others mouths, Ian’s cock slipping inside of him after fingering Mickey open. Silverware rattled and fell off the countertops, a cup of juice spilling after being knocked over onto the floor.

Mickey tossed his head back, Ian’s mouth going to his neck. He picked him up again, both of them falling to the floor as Ian pinned Mickey below him. “Fuck, oh fuck,” Mickey shuddered and grabbed his dick. “Right there,” he kissed Ian hard and wrapped both legs around him, Ian’s pace never slowing.

A knock on the door sounded through the kitchen, Ian’s movements coming to a halt. “Shit! Shit shit shit shit,” he groaned and pulled out of Mickey, scrambling to his feet to pull on his boxers. Mickey punched out a groan and looked at Ian, clearly confused.

“Ian? Ian, are you home?” A man’s voice came after the knocks, and Ian continued swearing as he ran up the stairs. Mickey snapped out of it and quickly pulled his jeans back up his ankles, slipping on some of the juice that spilled before stumbling to the door to open it up. His shirt wasn’t on and his jeans were unbuttoned, still panting from being freshly fucked.

“Is Ian home?” The man, a cop, asked him.

Mickey huffed a breath and nodded, “he’s um—, he’s upstairs,” he nodded and scratched the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

They stared at each other for an awkward moment. Mickey cleared his throat before nodding, “I’ll go get him.”

He darted up the stairs and found Ian leaving his room while pulling on a sweater, shaking his head.

“Cops— lookin’ for ya..” He sounded dazed, not quite sure what the fuck was happening.

“Stay here,” Ian grumbled and shuffled past him to make his way back down the stairs.

Ian sighed, holding the door open while two cops carried Frank inside, shouting nonsense while they placed him on the kitchen floor.

“Wouldn’t put him anywhere near a carpet until his pants dry a bit,” the cop said to Ian, showing himself and the others out.

“Thanks, Tony,” Ian said softly, turning to see Frank passed out where they put him.

“See ya, Ian.”

“Who the hell is that?” Mickey asked, pointing to Frank.

Ian looked at him, holding one of Frank’s boots that Tony handed to him. “My dad.”

“You just leave him there all night?” Mickey asked, walking past Frank who snored on the floor.

Ian laughed, tossing Mickey his shirt, “he’s never there when I get up.”

They looked at each other for a moment before Mickey put his jacket on. Ian hung his head slightly while Mickey walked out the front door, shaking his head a bit at how embarrassing the whole thing was.

-

Ian leaned against the washing machine while reading the newspapers classifieds section when someone knocked on the door. He furrowed his brows and squinted at Mickey when the door opened.

“You busy Friday?”

Ian blinked at him.

“I’ve got a party,” he said and stepped aside, letting Mickey walk in.

“Right,” Mickey murmured. “When you free next?”

Ian chuckled, putting some toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom, “c’mon, you’re not that desperate.”

Mickey closed the door behind him, hands in his pockets as he watched Ian. “Wanting to see you agains desperate?”

Ian sighed, “no, feeling like you have to,” he punctuated by adding more toilet paper to the stack. “That’s desperate.” He handed Mickey the crumpled up paper that was around the rolls. “C’mon, you can get laid anywhere. We all saw your rolex, the nice car..” he trailed off.

“Oh, so I’m only here for a fuck?” He asked, eyebrows high.

Ian laughed, arms crossing over his chest after leaning against the laundry machine again. “Never crossed your mind?”

“Just when you think you’ve struck gold with someone, his incontinent alcoholic father comes and ruins it all, and he blames you,” he said, tone thick with sarcasm.

“Struck gold?” Ian repeated, busying himself in the kitchen putting frozen chicken strips on a baking sheet then in the oven. “We had drunken sex on my kitchen floor.”

Mickey got in his way when he tried moving back towards the washing machine, “quit pretending you don’t even know me, you weren’t that drunk,” he challenged, making Ian take a step back and give him a look.

Lip walked down the stairs, pausing when he saw Ian and Mickey, “hey, it’s the dude who fucked my brother on the kitchen floor last night,” he said.

Ian shoved him playfully after he grabbed something from the fridge, “fuck off,” he mouthed, giving him a hard look.

When he finally left, Ian leaned against the washer again. “Listen, thanks for trying to get my money back and stuff but..” He trailed off and Mickey looked at him expectantly. “I’m not lookin’, not right now,” he said with finality.

“Okay,” Mickey said, eyeing the way the washer wobbled behind Ian. “I’ll leave my number for when you might be,” he said, scribbling it down on a sticky note before leaving.

-

There was a new fucking washer in the Gallagher kitchen, sitting shiny and new beside the dryer. He stood beside Lip, who was staring at the washer accusingly. Ian held a bottle of whiskey, a pack of Marlboros, and a one hundred dollar bill in his hand. “These were in the washer,” he said to him.

Lip grabbed the whiskey, turning it over in his hand. “You really fuck his ankles loose that well?” He asked, gesturing to the machine with the bottle.

Ian shoved him and laughed, setting down the gifts before heading upstairs to give Mickey a call.

“How much did you pay for it?” He asked, laying back on his bed and toying with the sticky note in his hand that had Mickey’s number on it.

“I’m not telling you,” he chuckled. “It was a gift. You remembered my number, so it worked,” he murmured.

“You’re washers in the yard, okay? We don’t need it, I don’t want it. So, you gotta pick it up before it starts rusting,” he said, trying his best to sound like he wasn’t bullshitting.

“Oh, is it?” Mickey asked, almost sounding like he believed him.

Ian sat up, bringing a knee to his chest, pausing before he answered indignantly, “no.”

“Did the guy connect it?”

Ian sighed, pursing his lips, “yes.”

“It’s working okay?” Mickey sounded like he was smiling now.

Ian crossed his legs, “it’s not my favorite color.”

“Oh, so you’ve tried it?” He said smugly.

Ian hung up on him.

-

Ian had to know what Mickey wanted, why he wanted it. So he called him, taking a walk to the park.

“If that wasn’t bullshit what was I wearing the first time you saw me dance?” He asked instead of a greeting.

“Blue jockstrap, you were dancing with some other guy too. Little taller than you, he had on the same thing,” he answered easily.

Ian made a sound in the back of his throat, “yeah, Ben,” he shrugged. “So you were watching him, too. Lot better looking than me.”

Mickey sounded surprised, “you think so? Really?”

“Yeah, so how come you’re not stalking him?”

“Because you think like that, he doesn’t. I didn’t even wanna know his name. He— he danced for an audience, you danced like there was no one else in the room,” he said firmly. “I didn’t go after him because there’s a whole city of Ben’s and there’s one of you.. You’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever met. You— you make me want to enjoy my life again.”

Ian was a little speechless. Mickey didn’t seem like the type of guy to say something like that, so he sat there, feeling dumb for the wetness in his eyes. He huffed a laugh.

“Are you there? Ian?”

-

They stood on opposite platforms of the L.

Ian smiled breathlessly at Mickey, nodding at the stairs before making his way down them. Mickey walked closer to him, soon crowding his space. He let out a soft sigh when Mickey’s hands caressed his cheeks, his going for Mickey’s face. They breathed together for a moment before Mickey leaned in, pressing his lips to Ian’s.

Ian pressed his lips firmly to Mickey’s swiping a thumb over his cheek when Mickey deepened the kiss by pushing his tongue past his lips slightly. He exhaled into Mickey’s mouth, pulling away to look at his face for a second. He furrowed his brows and leaned back in, kissing him again.

“You gonna let me take you out?” Mickey asked against his lips, making Ian chuckle.

“Out?”

-

They’re at a restaurant that’s way too fancy for what Ian’s wearing, but he doesn’t give a shit. He’s eating something chocolate and frozen and listening to Mickey talk, it’s nice.

“What exactly have I done to make you think I’m _unreliable_?”

Ian shrugged, eyeing his spoon with a smirk. “People like you are way too used to getting your way,” he answered and took another bite.

Mickey narrowed his eyes, “ _people like me_ being like?”

Ian shrugged again. Let him sweat it out.

Mickey gave him a once over, “okay.. Game of yes or no. All you have to do is agree or disagree.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward, “he thinks the sun shines out of his own ass.”

Ian sputtered a laugh, “agree.”

“He’s overly generous and that bugs me.”

Ian’s face hardened, dropping his spoon to the table, “agree.”

“Because I’m not used to—.”

“Actually, very agree,” Ian cut him off, arms crossing.

“Because I’m not used to getting spoiled..”

Ian raised his eyebrows, his mouth in a tight lipped smile.

“So I lose respect for guys like Mickey because people _unlike_ Mickey have always let me down?”

Ian’s expression fell. It struck a nerve. It wasn’t a secret that Ian had shitty taste in men and was, in fact, used to being let down. It was normal to him, and normal was comfortable.

“So deciding that he has money than sense is somehow more socially acceptable than asking, for instance, why the men I always date treat me like shit?”

 _Bingo_. “Fuck you.”

“It’s a question.”

“Fuck you,” Ian said again, grabbing his coat and sliding out of the booth. He’s on his way out the door when Mickey’s voice stops him.

“Either or,” he said with a raise of his brows.

Ian set his jaw, jutting out his chin before tossing his coat back into the booth. “Agree,” he said firmly, pissed off.

“He’s had an easy life,” Mickey said calmly.

“Definitely,” Ian nodded. He had no way of knowing, but the fancy car, expensive watch, and surprise washing machine gave him an inkling.

“And you prefer a guy who’s been around the block a few times,” he said cooly.

“What if I do?” He said immediately, cocking his head to the side.

“Say, D-Block of a maximum security prison?”

“If he knew how to have fun, yeah, sure!” Ian said with an angry smile. Honestly, who the fuck did this guy think he was. He looked at Ian like he could see right through him and it irritated the shit out of him.

“You don’t know shit about me and you’re making all these assumptions based on the way I’ve spent money,” Mickey said, his voice rising.

“Yeah, well when a guy’s buying me a washing machine and taking me to a five star restaurant for fucking gelato, what the fuck other kind of assumptions am I supposed to make?” He matched Mickey’s volume, earning a few stares.

Their waitress made her way over to them, “we finished here, guys?”

Ian looked away in embarrassment, gathering his coat in his hands.

“We’re working on it,” Mickey said, looking at Ian. “You wanna wait outside while I pay the bill?”

“Sure,” he murmured softly. He made his way outside the restaurant and lit a cigarette. He pulled from it roughly, shivering a bit in the cold. He sees Mickey walk past him, in a valet uniform, casually tossing his jacket onto Ian’s arm. He watched him walk up to a car that pulled in front, the driver handing over his keys with ease. Mickey then drove off, leaving Ian looking around, brows furrowed in shock.

His phone rang, jostling him out of his daze.

“I never told you what it is I do,” he started. “I got out of a shitty situation, now I sell cars..” He trailed off. “That aren’t mine."

Ian blinked rapidly and saw Mickey reverse back in front of the restaurant, “still looking for fun, Ian?” He asked with a smug smirk.

Ian ran to the car, hopped in and threw his head back in a laugh as they drove off.

-

Ian’s blood was pumping even as they walked into the Gallagher kitchen. He shut the door quietly and peered upstairs, smiling to himself. “I think they’re all asleep,” he said with a smirk on his face, arms wrapping around Mickey’s waist before pulling him into a kiss that could’ve easily turned into something hot it it weren’t for—

“Gotcha,” Frank’s voice piped up, the light in the kitchen turning on.

Ian pulled away from Mickey and wiped his mouth, assessing Frank before sighing. “This is Mickey,” he said with a gesture in Mickey’s direction. “Ignore him,” Ian said, moving past Frank to get a beer from the fridge.

Mickey raised his eyebrows but did just that. “I should.. Probably let you get to bed,” Mickey said, not sounding like those were his intentions at all.

They, somehow, wound up in the living room rolling a joint with Frank. He spewed nonsense, but he was in a good enough mood to be funny. Even Mickey was laughing, entertaining him.

Ian had his legs draped over Mickey’s lap as he laid on the couch, music playing through the living room, a joint being passed between all of them as Frank went on about who knows what. He laughed at something Frank slurred about, his knee warmed under the pressure of Mickey’s hand.

-

He woke up facing Mickey, giving him a sleepy look. He heard Liam making noises somewhere under the blanket, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Liam’s in here somewhere,” he murmured.

Mickey laughed, passively eyeing the bottom half of the bed. “Don’t the kids wake up?” He asked.

Ian shrugged, “would you?”

Mickey smiled at him, dislodging his hand from beneath his pillow to grab Ian’s.

He looked at their joined hands and exhaled, eyes slipping shut. Somewhere in the background, Liam made more noise.

-

Ian rushed down the stairs to start breakfast after quickly getting ready, slowing when he reached the bottom to see Mickey making pancakes. For his family. “What’s all this?” He made his way towards Mickey, who was wearing his shirt from the night before.

“Well, Peppermint Patty here was awake before everyone, said it was her birthday and pancakes were her favorite so—.”

All the Gallaghers turned to Debbie who raised her hands in innocence, “I said I wished it was!”

Ian laughed and took a plate of bacon from Mickey, their eyes meeting for a few seconds. Ian was enjoying this, watching Mickey so easily mesh with his family. He didn’t dwell on it too long before making his way to the table. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before school, tops,” Ian said to his siblings. “Fiona’s already gone to work so Debbie and carl, you need to do the dishes— Lip, trash, please,” he said and sat down. They all started talking and eating raucously, tossing bits of food at one another.

Mickey watched from the kitchen, moving an unconscious Frank’s legs out of the way of his chair so he could sit and join them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
